


Of Cold Drinks And Bad Decisions

by sheiruki



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Alcohol, Ancano is one sleepy boy, Ancano thinks he's clever but is he really?, Attempt at Humor, Drinking, Drinking Games, Excessive Drinking, Gen, Vomiting, just one sentence but still
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-30
Updated: 2020-08-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 08:01:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25610068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sheiruki/pseuds/sheiruki
Summary: After a troubled day, Ancano decides to unwind at the Frozen Hearth. There, he happens upon an unlikely drinking buddy.
Relationships: Savos Aren & Ancano
Comments: 12
Kudos: 24





	1. Ancano

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Editedcopycat](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Editedcopycat).



> A little something I've been working on in between my other fanfics.
> 
> The plot of this fic was inspired by this picture:  
> https://editedcopycat.tumblr.com/post/187561612192/id-imagine-that-life-in-the-college-would-feel  
> and all the ideas and conversations it spawned, and by "inspired" I mean Editedcopycat came up with several variations of the plot and I chucked them all into a blender and embellished the result. I can safely say that this work wouldn't exist without them, so lots of love for that and letting me post the result.

Ancano was fuming. First, that unfortunate incident with that obnoxious cat-mage, and then, that stubborn Master-Wizard would not grant him access to the Midden Dark. Again. He needed to blow off some steam and the only place where one could do so in this collection of hovels that dared to call itself a town was the Frozen Hearth. Although nothing out of the ordinary - quite the contrary as far as Ancano was concerned -, it was the only tavern that survived the Great Collapse and the only place in Winterhold where one could drown his sorrows in anything other than some watered down swill - apart from some rooms in the Hall of Countenance, if the rumours were to be believed.

He stepped outside, shivering, and wrapped his robes tightly around himself. The nights in Winterhold were always freezing cold, befitting a town of that name. Thankfully, the way to the tavern was not long; just across the crumbling bridge and down the street. No light was falling through the doors and windows of the few remaining houses; only a few scattered lanterns lit the way. 

_As if the rest of the population had joined the fallen down in the Sea of Ghosts._

He spotted a lone guard standing in front of the jarl's longhouse.

 _Except one over there_ , he thought as he stepped onto the porch of the Frozen Hearth. As soon as he opened the door he was hit by a wave of heat and the mouth-watering smell of seared onions and garlic. He hated to admit it, but he had developed a taste for the simple pleasures of nordic cuisine. The tavern was a beacon of life in that graveyard of a town. Filled with noisy chatter, laughter, all manner of townsfolk and -

_What's he doing here?_

In the corner of the room, not far from the counter, sat Savos Aren, the archmage, nursing a pint of mead and eating away at a meat-and-onion skewer.

 _Most unusual_ , Ancano mused, _that recluse doesn't normally leave his chambers, let alone the college, so why would he come here? Dinner can't be the sole reason, right?_

Arousing as little suspicion as possible, he looked for a free spot. 

He could not help but notice the sinister glares thrown his way, but of course, that was nothing unusual deep in Stormcloak territory. 

_Those unwashed brutes will in time learn to appreciate the refined cultural standards bestowed upon them by the Dominion._

At last, he found an empty table, slightly dirty and off to the side, but it would do. At least he could watch the archmage without him noticing. Ancano looked around, tapping his foot against the floor.

_Is there any service in this "noble establishment"?_

He waited and waited but no waiter came to take his order. At this point, he was starting to feel parched.

_Do I really have to get up and order at the counter?_

It sure seemed so. Ancano's frustration returned. Not only would he have to leave his cosy spot in the corner, but the archmage was surely going to notice him as well. 

_Perhaps,_ he pondered while approaching the innkeeper, _it is time for a new strategy._

"Ancano?" The archmage called out. 

_Just as planned._

"What brings you here?"

_I could ask you the same question._

"The bleakness of Winterhold eventually drove me to drink."

The archmage nodded understandingly and pulled up a second chair. "Come, join me then. My evening has been rather dull anyway," he put aside the picked-clean skewer and went to get two more drinks. Ancano mustered the table. If the archmage had emptied that pint in such a short amount of time, it likely was not his first.

_I could use that to my advantage._

Aren returned with two pints filled to the brim. As soon as he got his hands on his share, Ancano took a large, greedy sip and shuddered. He had never been a fan of mead.

The archmage was quick to work on his drink. Ancano less so.

"You know, sometimes the college feels awfully suffocating," Aren explained in between sips.

 _This entire town feels awfully suffocating,_ Ancano wanted to add.

"So you came here in search of release?"

The archmage remained silent for a moment.

"You could say so, I suppose."

Ancano took another sip and narrowed his eyes. It was not even good mead.

Aren leaned forward, letting his head rest on his hands.

"Is it not to your liking?"

"I prefer wine," Ancano stated, watching little droplets slide down the outside of the cold glass.

The archmage frowned. "I don't think they serve that here." He drummed his fingers on the table. "But we could get something stronger - a local delicacy if you will."

That caught Ancano's attention. Could this dreadful place actually hold a hidden gem? 

"I'm all ears, although I doubt this delicacy of yours will compare to the delights we have back in Alinor."

Aren cocked an eyebrow. "Just wait and see. I'm sure you will be pleasantly surprised." The archmage pointed at the barely touched mead. "By the way, are you planning to finish that?" 

"You can have it."

_He is making it way too easy._

The archmage delightfully chugged the rest of the mediocre mead and made his way to the counter. The innkeeper did not seem thrilled about serving either of them, but, Ancano assumed, the need for coin outweighed any reservations. 

When the archmage returned he was carrying with him two shot glasses, filled with some clear liquid and encrusted with a thin layer of rime.

"Snowberry schnapps," Aren explained. "Back in the day, every tavern in Winterhold had its own recipe."

He let himself fall back into his chair, a melancholy look clouding his features. "Now, this is the only one left." 

He handed a glass to Ancano.

"See how you like it."

Ancano took it and analyzed its contents. The schnapps could easily be mistaken for water; only the way it clung to the walls of the glass gave it away. He took a sniff. Fresh and stinging, like a blizzard sweeping through his nostrils.

_This is anything but watered down hooch._

"Oh, don't make a science out of it. Come on, drink!" The archmage urged.

A trace of doubt persisting in his mind, Ancano slowly brought the glass to his lips. They clung to the rim as the freezing liquid filled his mouth. Mint, mixed with the taste of a cold winter night - and was that a hint of Frost Mirriam?-, burned down his throat. He sat the glass down and took a deep breath, feeling his tongue turn to ice as, paradoxically, a ball of heat formed in his stomach and began spreading to his extremities.

"Good, isn't it?"

"Not as bad as I expected. I could get used to that if I'm honest."

Aren responded with a grin and another round.

"Wait," Ancano interrupted, "Senselessly getting drunk is no fun at all."

"Oh? And you know how to change that? Please enlighten me."

"I've been here for almost two months now, and yet, I hardly know anything about you. How am I supposed to advise a stranger? So, I propose we finally get to know each other by playing a little game."

He looked at the archmage and was met with a curious gaze.

"Well, I'm not a very remarkable man, but if you insist. Explain that game of yours."

"It's simple: I'll begin making assumptions about you. For every correct guess, you drink. If I'm wrong, it's your turn to assume."

Aren tilted his head to the side, eyeing his glass.

For a moment, Ancano held his breath.

Had the archmage seen through his plan?

"Assume away. I'm quite thirsty."

That took a load off his mind. And so, they began exchanging trivialities. Truth was, Ancano did not need to know that the archmage had been at the college for over a hundred years, that he loved sweet food or that his favourite hobby was not -to Ancano's surprise- sulking in his chambers. He needed him to drink, though.

And drink they did, assuming back and forth until they had amassed a notable collection of shot glasses, which the archmage was stacking into a short pyramid, all the while grinning like a Cheshire cat.

Ancano felt tipsy too. More than that, if he was completely honest; everything -the next order, the archmage's creative outburst, other patrons moving about- seemed to happen much faster than normal, as if by some strange magic, time had been slowed down for only him.

 _I can't let this go on for much longer_ , he decided.

"You were waiting for someone," stated Ancano. 

Aren took a sip.

_I knew it!_

"An old friend of mine. Sadly, it seems I've been stood up," Aren closed his eyes. "I hope nothing happened on the way here," he said, a trace of worry in his voice.

Ancano nodded, feigning sympathy. He was so close to finding out the archmage's true motive.

"And that friend is a college associate," Ancano guessed further. The archmage responded with a smirk. 

"My turn, " he announced and signalled the innkeeper to ready their next drinks.

Ancano gulped and braced himself for another round of schnapps. He was already starting to feel a little queasy.

"You were sent here as punishment." 

He wanted to scold the archmage for his audacity, even though the assumption was most definitely true, but his tongue lay heavy and lazy with alcohol. Taking a sip, he shuddered and added his glass to the ever-growing pyramid. Meanwhile, the archmage was already fetching the pre-ordered drinks.

_Will he notice if I slip outside for some fresh air?_

His heavy Thalmor robes were starting to feel awfully constricting. Trying to remedy that, Ancano fumbled with his collar.

A new glass was placed in front of him, thwarting his plan.

_When did he return?_

"Don't tell me you're giving up," the archmage teased.

That struck the Thalmor's ego. "As if," he proclaimed and took a large sip to drive the point home.

"That's the spirit!" The archmage laughed and slammed his fist on the table, making the shot-glass-pyramid clink and clank.

"All right, next guess: You don't like the college."

Ancano took a sip.

His throat revolted at the touch of the cool liquid, but he forced it down nevertheless. 

Wait, had he really just admitted to the archmage of Winterhold that his college sucks? 

"Don't take it persolly - personally, I mean." He defensively raised his hands.

"It's fine," the archmage assured gently.

Ancano sighed and leaned back in his chair. The room was spinning around him, shifting in and out of focus whenever he moved his head.

_I really am drunk, am I not?_

Aren reclined in his chair, arms crossed in his lap, and regarded Ancano with a kind, grandfatherly smile, looking him directly in the eye.

"Ancano," he began, his silky smooth voice calm and filled with warmth. "You've been reporting my each and every move to the embassy," he revealed, smiling still, not looking away once.

With practised motions, almost automatically, Ancano emptied his glass - and froze as that gentle smile turned downright devious.

_Oh shit!_

A shiver, as cold as the schnapps he just drank, washed over him. For the blink of an eye, Ancano had a moment of clarity.

_That sly old bastard._

He reeled away from the table, toppling the shot-glass-pyramid.

"That is a bold acshusation!" He slurred and stumbled backwards.

The archmage ignored him, quickly collected the scattered glasses and left a bag of septims on the counter before making after his companion. 

"Careful, Ancano, you don't look all that stable."

"Whaddo you know? I'm perfl- pferf-. I'm fi-," he did not get to finish the sentence before vomiting on the floor.

"Oh," he uttered, trying to steady himself. Since when was the floor of the Frozen Hearth made of quicksand?

He was vaguely aware of a death glare and a "that'll cost extra" thrown his way. However, that did not matter now; it had been such a tiring evening, after all. He let his eyes fall shut.

Someone - either the archmage or the innkeeper - grabbed him and ushered him out the door.


	2. Savos

The cold night was a welcome breath of fresh air. Savos could not remember the last time he drank that much - it may have well been before the Great Collapse. Back when- no, that was no topic for tonight. 

He took a look at the hammered Thalmor trailing after him with twisted steps. As far as he could tell, the treacherous mer was going to fall asleep at any minute.

This is going to be a long walk home, Savos thought and took a few careful steps forward, feeling as though he was balancing on stilts. Deep down, he was proud of himself; turning Ancano's blatant attempt at interrogation against him had been the highlight of this otherwise disappointing evening. 

He sincerely hoped Viarmo had not run into any trouble; he rather liked his fellow headmaster's sense of humour.

"Urgh…," a moan from behind caught his attention. He turned around.

"If you have to throw up again, please, be sure to aim away from me," he warned, only half-joking. Ancano pointed at the porch in front of the local alchemy shop.

"Porch," he muttered.

"Do you want to sit down?" Asked the archmage.

"Uh-huh," Ancano moved his head in a motion that could, with a bit of imagination, be interpreted as a nod and pulled on the archmage's arm. 

He sighed and walked the Thalmor over to the wooden step.

As soon as they had reached the porch Ancano let himself fall on his behind.

Savos sat down next to him. 

If he was completely honest, he did not mind the short break; despite his high tolerance, he was starting to feel a little funny. Taking a few deep breaths, he stretched his limbs and looked around.

At night the college appeared so much more imposing, a dark shadow looming over the rest of town, so close and yet worlds away.

He turned to his companion whose chin was slowly sinking towards his chest.

"Hey, you can't sleep now!" He nudged Ancano in the ribs, causing the altmer to shoot up from his impending slumber.

"I wasn't," he yawned, "sleeping."

Savos rolled his eyes but held back any remarks. Messing with the Thalmor in his current state might have been tempting, but could hardly be called fun. Having had enough of a break, Savos grabbed Ancano by the arms and helped him up. The two continued on their merry way, staggering and stumbling and slipping along the frozen road, until, at last, Ancano found another porch to rest on. While he proceeded to curl himself into a ball, Savos preferred to pace back and forth. He had sat more than enough.

Before them lay the massive dark gate to the college and beyond it, the crumbling bridge standing between the two and their warm beds. 

_ Just how am I going to get Ancano across? _ He pondered stroking his beard.  _ He may be a nuisance - a treacherous one at that - but that does not warrant him having an unfortunate accident.  _

Savos rubbed his hands before sheltering them under the thick outer layer of his robe, brushing against the belt that held it all together.

_ Perhaps I could tie him to me? Then he could not stray off. _

Savos frowned. __

_ He might drag me down with him, though, so let's better not risk it _ , he decided.  _ I suppose I'll just have to try my best to keep him in line. _

He glanced over to the snoring ball of Thalmor. 

"Ancano?" Savos called. 

No reaction.

_ I may have overdone it, _ he thought as he approached his companion.

"Ancano," Savos called again, a hint of concern in his voice. 

The Thalmor responded with an ungraceful grunt.

_ I have really overdone it. _

He bent down and reached out to Ancano. The moment the archmage made contact, he shifted.

"Lemme sleep," he mumbled and curled himself tighter.

"Ancano, you can't sleep out here," Savos said sternly and tried to pull the other mer up - to no avail; Ancano let himself drop to the ground like a sack of spuds.

"Ancano, please," Savos begged, pulling at the Thalmor's arm before being swatted away.

"No-uh," whined Ancano.

Savos shook his head. Who would have thought a bit of schnapps could turn a fully grown Thalmor into a bratty toddler?  __

Savos massaged his temples. He longed for his chambers; a bit of socializing was fun every now and then, but tonight had been enough to last for the next few weeks.

_ Why must he sleep now when his bed is just across the bridge?!? _

Frustrated, he slumped down next to Ancano and buried his face in his hands. He could not just carry him to the other side, could he? In moments like these, the archmage cursed himself for not knowing telekinesis.

He was ready to give up when an idea hit him like a sledgehammer.

Wait! I cannot carry him but-

Savos jumped up, jogged to the middle of the lonely street and looked left and right, searching for any trace of life. 

_ Nobody here _ , he concluded before catching sight of the lone guard standing in front of the jarl's longhouse.  _ Except for that one over there. _

Savos wondered if the poor soul had been standing there since his arrival at the Frozen Hearth and came to the conclusion that he would not put it past Jarl Korir to forget the poor sod on his doorstep.

He watched the guard a little longer. Once Savos was sure he was likely frozen solid, he set his plan in motion.

With a flick of his hand, the archmage began gathering Magicka, more and more, until it was enough to reach into the depths of oblivion and call forth one of his summons. 

Savos was sure the dremora in question was not going to appreciate being called upon for such a menial task, but he needed someone reliable, and out of the three dremora he had come to bind in his long life, that one was probably the only one fitting that description.

A bright flash of purple broke through the darkness and a dremora lord stepped out into the cold night air of Winterhold. Excluding his large, bent-backwards horns, he was still taller than Savos by at least one head and much broader as well - perfect for the job.

"Really? At this hour?" The dremora grumbled as he regarded the archmage with a perplexed, if slightly annoyed, expression.

"Yes, yes at this hour. I, ugh, have an urgent problem. If it's of any consli-," he paused to take a deep breath and untie his tongue, "Consolidation, it's a rather amusing problem." He motioned at Ancano, earning a chuckle from the dremora.

"Is that the important Thalmor advisor you've told me about?"

"Self-important," Savos corrected. "Will you help me get him across the bridge?" 

The dremora narrowed his eyes.

"I suppose I have to; you won't let me go otherwise, correct?"

Savos nodded. "The sooner we finish this you can go back to doing," he paused. Did he really want to think about it? "Whatever it is you dremora do at this hour." 

Together, they took Ancano by the arms and legs and began carrying him towards the bridge. At first, Ancano protested, whining and thrashing about wildly, but one stern look from the dremora put him in his place.

Like the college, the bridge too was more menacing at night. Corroded and decrepit it stretched over the abyss separating the college from the mainland as if to mimic the whale-bone bridge of nordic legend. 

An icy wind swept across it, stealing away the remaining warmth of the alcohol and causing Savos to shiver uncontrollably, forcing him to pause every so often.

_ I'm in good enough shape to drink but I'm getting too old for this _ , he thought as they heaved Ancano over the threshold of the college and into the Hall of Attainment. The way up the stairs put the Seven Thousand Steps to shame. When they finally dropped Ancano onto his bed, Savos let himself slump down right after. 

"Tired already?" Scoffed the dremora, quietly, as to not wake the apprentices.

"We mages," wheezed Savos, "are not known to be prime athletes."

"But archmages-"

"Especially archmages," Savos insisted, still gasping for air. It took a while for his legs to stop shaking, but when they stilled, at last, Savos gently clasped his hands together and spoke:

"Now, frankly, I'd like to get a bit of sleep myself. Rejoice, you're free for the rest of the night."

The dremora's face turned sullen.

"And here I had hoped for a -"

"Another time, another time," the archmage dismissively waved his hand and banished the dremora as quickly as he had summoned him. 

_ At last, no more talking; just the path across the ramparts and up the stairs and I'll be in my- _

"Archmage?"

A familiar but tired voice called out to him. He got up and looked around. Within the doorframe to her chambers stood Mirabelle Ervine, his master wizard, deep shadows under her eyes, unkempt and dressed in a simple formerly-white nightgown.

"Mirabelle, good - I believe it’s early morning already."

"I had expected the students to be behind this ruckus," she rubbed the sleep from her eyes, "not the archmage."

"Well, since you're up anyway, I've been wanting to talk to you." He approached her, came close enough for him to lean in and whisper in her ear.

The master-wizard withdrew, wrinkling her nose.

"Ugh, archmage, you reek of alcohol. Have you been out drinking?"

Savos shrugged. "It was for a good cause," he pointed at Ancano, halfway hanging off the bed in his glorified storage room, snoring loudly.

Mirabelle let out a stifled laugh.

"I'm sure he had it coming."

Savos nodded and pulled her closer.

"That's why I want to talk to you," he whispered, "I got Ancano to outright admit he's spying on us. Therefore, could you make sure none of his letters leaves college grounds until I have looked it over?"

"Leave it to me." She smiled, patted him on the shoulder and regained her distance, pursing her lips ever so slightly.

"Thank you," said Savos, "We shall discuss further measures another time; right now I'm-," he failed to withhold a yawn. "Apologies, it's been a long day. Sleep well, Mirabelle!"

He turned to leave for his chambers.

_ I may not be able to keep Ancano from spying on the college, but I can control what is going to reach the embassy. _

He had stepped halfway outside when he decided to stop one last time.

"Oh, and Mirabelle? I don't think Ancano is going to bother you tomorrow."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The story of this chapter is totally not based on events of in the author's real-life, not at all.
> 
> Poor Ancano... Then again, he had it coming.
> 
> I wanted Savos to have a friend outside the college and then I remembered a conversation about possible collaborations between the Bards College and the College of Winterhold, In fact, there had been contact in the past. I think Viarmo and Savos would get along well...
> 
> I mentioned three dremora in this chapter; Editedcopycat drew them a while back: https://editedcopycat.tumblr.com/post/614603547072446464/just-an-idea-that-had-been-sitting-in-my-head-for
> 
> Ah, but I'm rambling. I hope you enjoyed this second chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it!


End file.
